


La vie en Rose

by Effenay



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, End of the World, F/M, One Shot, Short Story, Two Lovers, inspired by dubliners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effenay/pseuds/Effenay
Summary: When the world ends, two people find each other in solace.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had this song singing in my head, as well as this scene to accompany it. I had no set of characters in mind as I wrote this, so this is just some random short story without a sense of an actual plot. This is just me practicing my writing.

Time stops for the two lovers.

Her hand rested against his breast and her cheek leaning against his heart. He, on the other hand had his hand resting against the curve of her back, the other on the back of the head. The two lovers danced to an old music box; its chimes sang a very rustic, yet old tune.

They unearthed it within the depths of a worn-down cabinet along their way home. And with a smile, they happily carried into their sanctuary like two children who had joyously carried their prize.

By the time they had finished what meagre meals they were able to obtain for the night, he flipped the music box and wound it at the back as she eagerly clutched his arm with the same enthusiasm.

“I can’t believe we scored a real one,” she said in a heightened, euphoric whisper.

“After all these years,” he laughed as he continued to wind the box. “Who knew these things still exists?”

“What song do you think it would play?”

“I don’t know,” he stopped winding the rotary and squinted at the engravings of the wood. “But there’s something written over there.” –he pointed at the engravings- “It spells ‘L-A-V-I-E-E-N-R-O-S-E- I think.”

 “Let me have a look,” she said, raising her gas lamp to light the surface of the wood. “’la… vee-e… en- rose… I don’t know what it means. I can’t even tell what language this is.”

“Neither could I,” he nodded. “It’s bad enough I still bad at reading. ‘Rose’ though sounds like a start.”

She nudged him by the elbow lightly. “Well, that doesn’t matter. Come on, play it!”

“Don’t rush me,” he said as he began to lift the lid up. “There’s a chance I might break it if I don’t handle it with-”

After the box sang its first note, he stopped speaking as the notes slowly knitted itself together into a song. The girl stopped breathing for a moment, enthralled by the sound that seemed so foreign and yet so nostalgic in her ears.

“Beautiful,” she breathed out.

The man said nothing in reply, as the two of them watched the cylinder and pegs that plucked its rustic comb. For a while they said nothing and watched the box play its tune in endless repetition. A wave of emotions washed over the two of them, for it has been a good twelve years since they last heard music made from the sound of a man-made device. His heart throbbed at the melancholy, bringing him to wrap his arm around her waist. The gesture brought her attention towards him, gazing at his glistened eyes.

He then rested the box onto the worn-down wooden floor boards, slipping a ragged cloth underneath in hopes of protecting it from any further damages. After doing this, he stood up, took the woman by the hand to follow him. With his foot, he pushed away the excess rubble within the already small spaced shelter to clear the floor.

With his hand in hers, he rested it onto his breast and brought her head against his chest.

“Wh-what are we doing?” she giggled as he positioned her to have her body lean against him.

“We’re going to dance,” he said ruefully. “You taught me how to read, I’ll teach you how to dance.”

“How is this dancing?” she laughed light-heartedly. “I’m just leaning against you!”

“Follow my lead, and I’ll show you.”

He took a step back, having her to follow his footing; rocking, and swaying her awkwardly as she tried to follow through. With every move, she laughed at how silly it felt, but revelled at the warmth and how comfortable it felt to have her body pressed against his own. After a few fumbles and an occasional stepping on his feet, they finally found their footing and rhythm. They swayed and turned ever so slowly to match the rustic pacing of the song that sang in an endless repetition.

As the night lingered onwards, the two of them remained there in each other’s arms. The only solace they could ever have in the crumbling world they were living in. The tune sang of a long forgotten age, as it brought a melancholy and undefinable emotions that now seemed more foreign and other worldly in their ears.

Under the gleam of the moonlight that seeped through the small crack of a window, the two lovers didn’t want the song to end. For silence was a grim reminder of the fate that the world had faced twelve years ago. Neither of them wished to speak of it, but had always questioned it, for there were only very few people left in the world who could answer their questions.

“I don’t know why,” her voice was muffled by the fabric of his clothes. “But I sometimes wonder who my parents are. I remember what I was taught. But I don’t remember how they looked like.”

“Mm,” he hummed, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “I remember mine. Sometimes I often wonder if they are still out there, though.”

After that, they remained silent as they continued to rock against each other in slow circles as the song continued to play.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. please feel free to leave a comment.


End file.
